


For I have known a sorrow such as yours, and understand

by Nathea_Rayne



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s01e05 Small Worlds, Weevil hunting with Ianto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathea_Rayne/pseuds/Nathea_Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a savage beast is captured, the Captain loses a staring contest and Ianto gets a little carried away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For I have known a sorrow such as yours, and understand

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net!

There are three universal truths Jack Harkness believes in.

First: The universe is endless and eternal; it has no borders and is forever expanding. There is no ‘before’ or ‘after’ or ‘beyond’ the universe, it just is and always will be. He doesn’t know where exactly it is expanding to because after all if there’s no ‘beyond’ then there can be nothing beyond the universe and if there’s nothing beyond the universe then logically there’s no space for the universe to expand into. But he tries not to think too hard about that. It gives him headaches.

Second: The Doctor is the only person who will be able to fix him. If he can find him, then everything will be all right and he’ll finally be allowed to rest in peace for good.

Third: Ianto Jones was born in a suit.

He’s wearing suits at work. He’s wearing suits on his rare days off. He’s wearing suits when he’s called into work at 2am on a Saturday night. Even in the weeks after Lisa, when Jack occasionally visited him during his suspension, Ianto was always wearing a suit, even though Jack had never announced what time exactly he would be coming over. Ianto always looked immaculate as ever, as if trying to retain a façade of normalness through all his pain and heartbreak and trying not to fall apart. No, as far as Jack Harkness is concerned, Ianto Jones never voluntarily takes off his suit; not since he hired him anyway. He even has a recurring nightmare where he finally manages to peel the suit off his archivist just to reveal another suit beneath the countless layers.

So, all things considered, he’s pretty sure he can’t be blamed for freezing at the doorstep to Ianto’s flat and staring in wordless shock at the young Welshman before him who is wearing grey sweatpants and a deliciously tight black t-shirt and returning his gaze with mild annoyance. A sight Jack doesn’t actually mind, really, but, well, it’s… unexpected.

He’s still scrambling for words when Ianto finally breaks the awkward silence with a carefully composed “Is there anything you need, sir?” and so Jack blurts out the first coherent sentence that forms in his mind: “You’re not wearing a suit.” Well, maybe it’s not the most intelligent thing to say, but at least it’s a sentence.

“No, sir, I’m not wearing a suit” Ianto replies with an ever so slight quirk of his left eyebrow.

“Why are you not wearing a suit?”

“That would be because it’s 3am and I’m supposed to be in my bed. Sleeping.” He reaches up attempting to smooth down his hair that is sticking up at some very interesting angles, as if to emphasize his point.

“You don’t sleep in your suits?” Jack’s mind helpfully supplies a mental picture of Ianto not sleeping in a suit. Of Ianto not sleeping in anything.

The right eyebrow joins the first and Jack mentally shakes himself. He must seem really out of it if his question already warrants two lifted eyebrows this early in the conversation.

“Is there any particular reason for you to be here? Sir?”

“Ah, yes, actually…” Jack consciously straightens his spine, crossing his arms and parting his legs slightly, assuming what Owen calls ‘The Captain Mode’. Ianto automatically matches his gesture, correcting his stance from where he had been leaning against the doorframe, pushing his hands into his pockets and lifting his chin just a little bit, assuming what Jack calls ‘The Delicious Secretary Mode’. “There’s been a Weevil alert not too far from here. I’d handle it myself, but judging from the reports it seems to be a pretty savage beast, maybe even two of them, so I thought I’d better get some backup before heading there.”

Just when Ianto’s eyebrows were beginning to settle in their usual places, they shoot upwards once again. “So you came to me instead of calling Owen or Gwen whose job description actually entails field work?”

“Well, I seem to remember you having a bit of an experience with pretty vicious Weevils” Jack replies with a grin and a wink, but unfortunately even I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-so-leave-me-the-fuck-alone-Ianto isn’t fooled that easily.

“Right. This has nothing to do with them still being angry about Jasmine.”

Jack’s grin fades just as fast as he conjured it up. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have come here” he says, already turning around. “You go back to bed and get some sleep; I’ll deal with the Weevils alone.”

He really hopes that his relief isn’t too noticeable when Ianto lets out an annoyed huff behind him. “Let me just get my coat. I’ll be with you in a minute, sir.”

* * *

They drive in silence for several minutes, but it doesn’t seem forced or awkward in any way. It is the kind of silence that sometimes lingers between old friends or lovers who know each other’s thoughts without asking.

Of course Jack has no idea what Ianto is thinking.

That doesn’t really matter anymore, though, because Ianto is right: This has everything to do with Jasmine and the Fairies. Jack is still grieving for Estelle, is still grieving for Jasmine, and his team isn’t yet ready to forgive him. They will understand that he had no other choice, eventually, but it’s going to take time and for now the silence that descends upon any room he enters in the Hub is suffocating him and their glares are like daggers to his back every time he passes one of them. But Ianto, beautiful, tortured Ianto, who betrayed them all and is struggling himself to be accepted back into the team, doesn’t care. Jack is the Captain and he makes the decisions. Ianto is in no place to question him. Jack is pretty sure that his obedience shouldn’t make him that happy now that he knows where it came from in the first place, but it does.

Sometimes he regrets only having hired strong-minded, determined people.

Sometimes he’s glad that Ianto wormed his way into Torchwood to betray them.

He’s not about to admit that, but in moments like this he’s almost sure that Ianto knows anyway.

“Sir?”

“Huh?” Jack blinks and realises that Ianto is staring at him like he’s trying very hard not to look amused. Which is when Jack realises that he, in turn, is staring at Ianto.

“The light turned green about a minute ago.”

“Yeah, I know” Jack replies in a not quite desperate attempt to save his face. “I was waiting for you to tell me which way we have to go.”

“Of course, sir. I believe we have to turn right. We’re almost there.”

Jack puts his foot down on the accelerator and every cheeky remark Ianto may have been about to make is cut off by a dull _thump_ as he falls against the passenger door. When Jack risks a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, he’s smirking.

* * *

The “savage beasts” turn out to be one single adolescent Weevil, and Jack allows himself to be grateful that Ianto knows when to keep his mouth shut – other than for example Owen who would have started complaining the moment they saw the alien and doubtlessly wouldn’t stop before Jack threw him out of the SUV. Something that has actually happened before.

“Well” Jack says when the Weevil is lying in the boot securely bound and sedated, “that was anticlimactic.”

“I rather like anticlimactic, to be honest. Exciting alerts have the tendency to turn out a little dangerous” Ianto returns.

Which is the exact moment when Papa Weevil chooses to jump out of the shadows with a growl and barrel him into the ground.

“Ianto!” Jack shouts just as the Welshman lets out a surprised yell and gets his arms between his body and the alien’s seconds before the razor sharp teeth can close around his neck.

The Captain doesn’t hesitate any longer; he pulls out his Webley, releases the safety and fires one, two, three, four rounds into the Weevil’s skull.

Time stands still while the creature collapses over Ianto’s still body and Jack can’t hear anything apart from his heart beating in his chest, _thump thump thump_. He can’t hear the wind rustling in the leaves, _thump thump thump_ , can’t hear the sound of mud squishing under his boots as he shifts forward to get to Ianto, _thump thump thump_ , can’t hear himself breathing, _thump thump thump_ , can’t hear Ianto breathing, _thump thump thump thump thump._

“Ianto!” he shouts again, frantically trying to push the dead Weevil off of his friend. When he finally succeeds, a low groan drowns out his heartbeat. “Oh thank God.” He grabs Ianto by his coat – which now sports a jagged tear along the right shoulder – and pulls him to his feet, into his arms.

Jack doesn’t even have time to catch his breath before Ianto regains his balance, pushes him up against the SUV and kisses him, hard.

Relief and adrenalin chase each other through his veins, blurring the night sky over their heads, blurring the uneven ground at their feet, the cold SUV he’s leaning against, the wind tearing at his hair, blurring _everything_ besides the firm body that is pressing up against him, the sure hands sliding beneath his greatcoat, the warm lips against his own, the tongue pushing inside his mouth, blurring everything besides _Ianto_.

 _This is good_ , is about the most coherent thing rushing through his mind as Ianto’s hands find their way behind his back, pushing him away from the SUV to crush their bodies closer closer _closer_ together, while Jack’s own hands roam across Ianto’s slim torso, travelling lower and settling on his hips. He feels Ianto’s erection pushing against his own groin and has to force himself not to just turn him around and take him against the SUV here and now.

It takes several long moments for his brain to kick in and then several more for his body to react to the things his brain says, but finally he manages to grip Ianto’s shoulders and gently push him away. “Ianto…” he says – and it takes him every ounce of his self-control to say it when he’s looking at those red, kiss-swollen lips – “I don’t think this is a good idea.” And logically speaking he really doesn’t think it is because Ianto is hurting and Jack has never been good at taking pain away, only ever making it worse. And anyway, he isn’t sure what the handbook on 21st century morals says about making out with your boss who happens to have executed your last girlfriend a few weeks ago, but he reckons it can’t be good. If there’s one thing Ianto doesn’t need just now, it’s another regret.

The confused look in the Welshman’s eyes disappears as they widen in shock. “But I thought –” he stammers, “I mean – oh god, I’m so sorry.“

“Ianto –“

“I’m sorry sir, I got a little carried away, the adrenalin must have –“

“Ianto, no, listen to me. It’s okay. It’s really okay. I just don’t want you to regret anything. You’re still grieving and you’re trying to find a way to ease the pain, but this is not the right way.”

“Of course, sir.” Ianto visibly straightens himself and Jack can tell that he has already formed his own reasons for Jack rejecting him by the way his usual impersonal mask slides in its place on his face. “It won’t happen again.”

He rounds the vehicle looking as dignified as any man can look in mud-caked sweatpants and a torn coat before Jack can think of anything to say to make it better, and starts dragging the dead Weevil towards the vehicle. Sighing, Jack opens the boot once again and helps him lift the deadweight up into the SUV and move it next to its unconscious friend, mate, offspring, whatever. “That’s not exactly how I had planned this night to turn out”, he tries to joke as he gets back into the driver’s seat and fastens his seatbelt but, if anything, he manages to make Ianto look even more sinister.

* * *

This time the silence lies heavily between them, the way black clouds darken the sky in the moments just before a storm breaks loose. Except that Jack knows there is never going to be a storm. Not with Ianto. Not anymore. The storm is gone, passed over them in the tourist office at Mermaid Quay, the last aftershocks lost in the basement under the Hub. There is no more fight left in Ianto, not right now, and so he just deflates in the passenger seat, looking awfully young and lost. There’s nothing Jack can say to make him feel better, though. He’s never been good with words; he usually lets actions speak, but unfortunately, actions can be even more ambiguous than words.

Neither of them speaks a single word until they reach Ianto’s flat.

“Right. No point really in going back to bed now” Ianto says.

Jack bites his tongue to keep the cheeky comment about there always being a point in going to bed from slipping out. He doesn’t think the quip will be appreciated just now.

“I’ll just go and change into something more appropriate for work. If you don’t mind waiting in the car for ten minutes?”

Jack understands the question for what it is: _Please leave me alone for a few minutes so I can repeatedly bang my head against the nearest wall and then gather up some dignity._ He nods wordlessly and Ianto gets out of the car to disappear through the door to his flat.

Suddenly feeling tired, Jack rests his head against the steering wheel and, just for a brief moment, he wonders if it was the right thing to reject Ianto because as much as his brain keeps telling him that he’d never forgive himself if he had taken advantage of the young man’s grief today, it certainly didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

When Ianto returns to the car precisely nine minutes and forty-eight seconds later, Jack has long slipped back into the tireless Captain persona and Ianto is the Delicious Secretary once again, dressed immaculately in a dark suit, light blue shirt and crimson tie.

“How are you, Ianto?” he asks carefully.

“Fine, sir” Ianto answers, looking straight ahead, and in this instance Jack wants nothing more than to put him back into sweatpants and t-shirt and kiss him senseless.

Already subconsciously plotting a plan, he vaguely remembers a newspaper article about some disappearances in the Brecon Beacons that was flagged by the Torchwood computer system. He steals another glance at Ianto’s unmoving face before he hits the turn signal and pulls out of the parking spot, smiling to himself.

Maybe it’s time for a team building exercise in the countryside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> This is something I wrote a couple of months ago and I'm not really in the Torchwood fandom anymore, but if you want to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://nathearayne.tumblr.com) anyway, you're welcome to do so. :)


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